


just like you’d always said it’d be

by Julx3tte



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Harry's Birthday, He's 40!, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, a few mentions of alcohol, happy birthday harry writing fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julx3tte/pseuds/Julx3tte
Summary: on the eve of his 40th, Harry visits some important places in his life.Written for the happy birthday harry writing fest, organized by fightfortherightsofhouseelves! Thank you!
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 28





	just like you’d always said it’d be

**Room of Requirement**

Harry set his quill down and stretched back on his chair. He’d finished his grading with plenty of time to spare - it was hardly 10:30 in the morning and he’d given his students the next two days off to write papers. Though, if McGonagall put the pieces together, she’d realize that he just wanted his birthday and the day before off from teaching so he could escape the castle for a few days.

His 9th year teaching Defense against the Dark Arts.

Appropriate for the man who ended the curse on the position, although it took him more than a decade to finally take the seat. Minerva (it still pained him to use her first name) had offered it just after James was born and it still took him the better part of his 20s to realize he wanted to take it.

Now, age 39 and 364 days, his teaching was finally coming into his own. 

It helped that Harry’s students were young enough not to have been alive through the war. Harry was all over the history books, but it was just that - history. He’d share stories of the Basilisk and of the Triwizard, which was coming soon, and of what it took to repair Hogwarts after the final battle, but none of them had been there. None of them needed what he’d needed.

They did, however, need guidance. So Harry took a stroll through several secret passageways up to the Seventh Floor and walked by the empty wall once again, passing by until a door appeared.

The DA had dissolved as soon as the last students that had been part of it graduated, but their spirit lived on. The professor before Harry had re-started the Hogwarts Dueling Club, which met weekly in the very same room.

Harry stepped through the door and calmly reflected a rogue stunning charm.

“Sorry professor,” a shaggy haired student said, quickly turning back to his partner.

Harry nodded. He wouldn’t stay long, but he’d stay for long enough to hand out pointers and, if he was lucky, flick a few  _ expelliarmus’es  _ at Jim to keep the boy on his toes.

Jim, for all of the ways Harry loved his son, much too much like his namesake for Harry’s blood pressure. At age 18 he was exactly like the both of them, but as the eldest, managing teenage Potters was a nightmare and he could understand why all of his parental figures were so fed up. 

James Sirius Potter stood at the corner of the room, one hand in his hair and the other holding the hand of a particularly smart Gryffindor fifth year. She’d wipe the floor with him in a duel, Harry supposed.

Catching his son’s eye, Harry mouthed,  _ see you at home _ , and excited quietly. He had quite the trip to take before Ron’s party for him tomorrow, and it would do well to start early. 

* * *

**Hogwarts Courtyard**

The Hogwarts Courtyard was the one place in the castle Harry avoided the most.

Most of his other memories of the place had faded, replaced with new ones with new students, with his sons, and with his new perspective as a professor. The courtyard he’d killed Tom Riddle in wasn’t one of them.

Still, Harry strolled through it, drawing eyes from students walking by during the passing period, particularly the ones who knew the history behind where Harry was headed.

He stopped promptly on the brick that Voldemort had erupted into ash on and looked towards where he himself had stood, 22 years prior.

It was memorialized, sort of. Harry had declined every effort of commemorating him - particularly the living statues. When he finally bit it himself, maybe, but while he was living and breathing, having statues in his likeness was a little too much.

He did, though, allow a golden brick at the spot he stood, part of a memorial tour through sites of the Battle of Hogwarts. It said merely,  _ to those that perished _ , and when a wand was waved over it, showed the list of names and a golden trail that led to the next part of the tour.

Harry allowed himself the list once more. 

Years of practice and a little bit of help from his surprisingly discreet muggle therapist had given him ways to deal with the grief. For each name, Harry thought of a few more - their survivors, all of whom he’d kept up with or exchanged Christmas cards with over the years.

_ Fred Weasley _ . Well, they were brothers now.

_ Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks _ . He’d been at Hogwarts to see Teddy through his graduation. His godson was, somehow, the least trustworthy of his sons, and prone to the most trouble. 

_ Colin Creevey _ . Dennis had actually been one of the ones to help Harry in navigating the Muggle world. As a muggleborn wizard who chose to return to the muggle world for work, he’d been invaluable in helping Harry figure out where he wanted to travel after the war. It was one of the few things he and Ron and Hermione allowed themselves to travel. Those two to Australia, him to the States, all of them to Egypt and Japan and South Africa and the other centers of the wizarding world.

Harry stood, reading each name and remembering, before strolling past to the Hogwarts gates and apparating away with a loud  _ CRACK _ . 

* * *

**King’s College**

Kings College at the heart of London was, for Harry, the worst time of his 20s. Not that he didn’t love walking through the muggle world, totally unknown and, well, going to uni like the rest of the muggles his age.

No, it was that uni meant studying, and studying meant Hermione’s overbearing assistance and the sheer amount of effort it took to actually put some effort into it since he was paying thousands of pounds for the experience of being normal.

It helped that the Aurors had a historic dip in magical crimes to investigate once it leaked that Harry Potter was joining the force. It helped more that he could get away from class and watch every one of Ginny’s games that season.

Still, the memory of walking through campus, of staying up late nights again learning maths and history and  _ chemistry _ , whatever had possessed him to take that; of reading papers and joining discussions and getting odd looks from his classmates, it meant something. It’s funnier, somehow, that he was a professor himself now and assigned the very same work to his own students. 

Harry was here to grab Hermione, who’d begun teaching as an adjunct for the fun of it, and get them both to the Burrow for lunch. She was still at the tail end of class when he arrived.

For as much as he loved Hermione, she was not a natural born teacher. It was part of why she’d started teaching in the first place. Part of her campaign for Minister of Magic involved stronger Magical-Muggle relations and having lived in that world was a feather in her cap that none other could claim.

So to say that she has taught their most impressionable and understood how to preserve the magical world while opening it up for muggle born wizards and half bloods to bring the very best things was no small accomplishment.

If only she hadn’t picked their undergrad alma mater to do it. 

Hermione dismissed her class with a wave and smiled when she saw Harry standing in the hallway.

“Ready?” she asked, taking his arm.

Harry nodded, stepped into her office, shut the door, and Apparated once more.

* * *

**The Burrow**

“Welcome dears,” Molly said, patting the both of them on the shoulder as Harry and Hermione walked into the Burrow, towards the familiar cacophonous sounds of the Weasley family.

Ginny and Ron were already here, arguing about the recent Cannons v. Harpies game; George and Percy were manning the grill, and Arthur, who looked like he’d just gotten away from the office minutes ago, was drinking a tall glass of something orange.

He waved them over and handed them plates.

“Mind the ribs, Percy tried some new time charm on it to get it to cook quicker,” he whispered to Harry.”

“Only the beef for me,” he said seriously.

Barbeque was a recent addition to Weasley family lunches. Molly had an open door for meals, and over the years they’d each brought their own recipes and dishes to the potluck. Harry and Ginny’s last trip to the States brought them to Texas, where he’d learned how to ride a horse, throw a lasso, and barbecue brisket from some of the local Aurors who offered to show them around.

Harry’d brought back a grill and a handful of rub recipes and let them loose to mixed results.

George and Ron, apparently, were naturals, quickly picking up on the subtleties of burning wood, of managing the temperature and reapplying rub and sauce. Percy, ever impatient, was not. His experimentation led to all sorts of mishaps. Last month, he’d tried a flavor substitute charm that left the brisket tasting like mayonnaise instead of, well, anything else.

Harry slid into the seat next to Ginny, giving her a kiss on the cheek and listening into her fierce argument with Ron. The kids were mostly grown up and off at Hogwarts now, so lunches tended to be smaller, and the extended Weasley family would pop in when they could. Harry rarely came down from the castle, reserving it only for special occasions.

Luckily for him, it meant that Arthur could break out the whiskey at will, and Harry smiled when a small glass floated in front of him.

When all of the children were small, these lunches were a godsend. He and Ginny could drop the three of them off to play with Rosie and Hugo and the rest of their cousins and take a breather. The parents would take turns on kid duty and give each other a break. Until they went to school, pick up Quidditch and games of hide and seek and cleaning the kids of cuts and scrapes were normal, and somehow Harry got less sleep than when he was an Auror.

Now, though he saw his nephews and nieces far too often, and gave their respective parents an update when he could. Some of them - Ron, especially, scoffed. He only wanted to know whether he needed to send a howler. Bill and Charlie particularly enjoyed the drama. 

Harry gave a private cheers and took a sip of his whiskey and savored the slow burn through his throat.

Of all the small pleasures of his life, the gift of his family was the greatest.

* * *

**Diagon Alley**

“Do you want me to make dinner tonight, or should I eat at the castle?” Ginny asked, flipping her hair. She’d kept her hair short even after the kids grew up. Currently, the longest part ran to her ears, though she kept her sides buzzed.

In contrast, Harry’d let his hair grow to his shoulders and, to Ginny’ s urging, stopped shaving his beard. He looked like Sirius, except somehow more gruff.

“I’ll come to the house,” he said.

These days, Hogwarts professors had their choice of accommodations. They got a room in the castle, and at first, before the kids were at school, Harry kept a house in Hogsmeade. They’d since sold it, preferring a small condo in London, though Harry sometimes alternated where he slept. During the work week, he stayed in the castle, and sometimes on weekends came to visit.

Ginny kept herself busy - she’d been promoted from senior correspondent to senior editor of Quidditch, Today, which had a whole host of new problems to solve. For once, 57% of quidditch followers around the world used the internet to follow the sport, making her paper publication the third or fourth most significant revenue stream, after online articles and videos. It was a new learning curve and Ginny preferred to stay at the heart of the city to keep up.

Still, they spent most nights together somehow, texting each other their location. Whoever was up later would come join, and rarely, now that Lily Luna was at Hogwarts too, took a night at the Potter family house out in the cliffs, the deed of which Harry found buried in his Gringotts vault years ago.

The children teased them, but it was fine. Besides, it was better they said nothing about why Harry and Ginny would want to escape to the outskirts of England for a night or two. 

“Okay, love you,” Ginny said, giving him a kiss and disappearing into the Floo.

Harry stepped in after the flames disappeared, green engulfing him until he found himself at the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Not much about Diagon Alley had changed. Wizard Modernization, the political term for whatever it meant that muggle born wizards took the lead in innovating and integrating wizarding society with muggle technology, largely happened individually. Officers from the Ministry would offer classes or 1:1 training around modern conveniences, leaving it to the witch or wizard to pick how traditionally they would like to live.

Diagon Alley remained one of those traditional experiences, offering every student headed to Hogwarts the very same experience British wizards and witches had for decades.

Ollivander’s, now run by one of Harry’s former classmates, stood just a block from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, and the familiar sight of shops, robes, and tall hats reminded Harry of his first trip here with Hagrid.

Harry pulled the small phone from his pocket, put in a delivery order at the bakery, and walked to the apothecary to pick up a resupply of wolfsbane before apprating again, landing precisely on the steps leading to an old, battered door with a silver knocker in the shape of a serpent. 

* * *

**12 Grimmauld Place**

Number 12, Grimmauld place was a dark, dusty home. In the years since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had used it as a hideout, it scarcely had any visitors. Harry himself had never stayed in it, preferring to leave it to the care of various house elves and, eventually, Teddy, who Harry hired over the summers to manage the various houses Harry had inherited.

All of these factors made it the perfect location for a werewolves group home.

Harry stepped through the ghost of Dumbledore and dropped the basket of wolfsbane on the dining table, finding his godson staring at a stack of papers and a laptop. Since graduating from Hogwarts, he’d followed in Hermione’s footsteps and went to Uni in London along with some of his Gryffindor classmates, majoring in non-profit business management. Now in his final year, his goal - Harry had asked for a presentation in exchange for tuition money - was to run a pro-werewolf non-profit and continue to introduce pro-werewolf legislation through the Wizengamot.

His first order of business was to renovate Number 12, Grimmauld place. There were a half dozen wizards staying full time at the moment, trying to get back on their feet, and Teddy came by every other day to bring groceries and leads on finding work in the Wizarding world.

The rest of the day, he was at uni, studying. Harry, though, knew better.

“Hey Ted,” he said, helping himself to a glass of water as Teddy worked on. His hair was blonde today, bangs nearly to his eyes. “How’s Vic?”

Teddy’s head snapped to look at Harry so fast that he could have sworn that it would send the papers in Teddy’s hands flying. The young man gaped for a moment, then looked up.

“Oh, right.”

“Lucky your friends think it’s all dye,” Harry said.

“She’s fine, long shift tonight so I won’t see her till the weekend,” he replied, eyes back in his paperwork. “Hey, while you’re here, could you take a look at this? How do I get this into the Wizengamot without Hermione?”

Harry stepped over to look at a draft of some legislation that Teddy was helping write. He’d probably have to learn Wizarding law next, but was more likely to take a gap year after that. Victiore would graduate soon, and Harry liked to think that the catalogue of rings Teddy stashed in his old bedroom was more than just his godson dreaming.

He skimmed through the printed sheets quickly before replying. “I’d do a survey. Get public opinion, make a poll on the internet and flag it for wizards, and use that to get a referendum. Might take half a year, but going slow is worth not pulling strings. Save those for when you get a seat yourself.”

Teddy’s eyes, today a cautious green, not too far off Harry’s own eyes, shifted back to their original brown, and suddenly Teddy’s face looked just like his father’s. He closed them and nodded to himself.

“Yeah, yeah I will.”

Harry ruffled his still blonde hair. “Work hard Ted, and make sure you make some time for the party tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t miss it Harry,” Teddy replied, shoving his face back into his laptop. 

* * *

**Muggle London**

Harry walked out of 12 Grimmauld Place the long way, Apparating from the steps to the alley behind the house. It was a rare treat these days to take the Tube, and the walk back to the condo was pleasant, with the sun just low enough to cast bright shades of orange and yellow through the streets.

If his teenage years were defined largely at Hogwarts castle, Harry’s 20s were certainly made in Muggle London. It was his escape. His first year of recovering from the war involved a tremendous amount of sleep at the Burrow, but at the end of the year, with Hermione and Ginny back at school, with Ron at the joke shop with George, Harry needed somewhere new to unfold.

So he chose Muggle London. His first summer before Auror training, he spent two months in his flat, trying his best not to use magic. He caved to cool off the small studio, and of course to keep in touch with everyone, but there was something charming about reclaiming the way he’d lived before his Hogwarts letter had arrived at the Dursleys.

Harry watched films and took the tube and, a few years later, started taking university courses. He took Ginny on dates and went drinking with the Aurors. He walked to work like many of the other ministry employees, taking discreet portkeys down to the Ministry of Magic.

He also dodged plenty of reporters, asking him about some of the high profile cases he’d taken on. It wasn’t until Jim was born that he started spending more time at home than out. The long work hours as an Auror suddenly stopped suiting his lifestyle as a parent, until eventually, he’d made the decision to pass up a promotion and leave the force altogether.

It was no surprise to anyone that knew him. To stay on almost 12 years after saving the wizarding world was more service than anyone could ask for. Robards knew by the time he was married that he’d stay five more years at most, and once Lily Luna was born, it was clear where Harry was headed off too.

Not that Minerva had been discreet at all, taking a “visit” to the Auror’s office to meet with Robards. They still called him in every now and then, but only to consult on particularly dark cases. 

Someone had asked him once what he wanted to get out of being an Auror, and he had no response. The easy reply would have been to say that this was what he was born to do. To stop anyone from rising to power the way Riddle had. But that had never sat right.

It wasn’t for a few more years that he’d figure out that he needed to feel safe again - that Harry Potter the legend was no more real than Harry Potter the auror, the father, the husband. It took a few months of traveling overseas, of going incognito, and of spending his 20s not so worried about the future to make it happen.

As soon as the things that were really important to him popped up - his kids, his nephews his nieces, and even Dudley’s kid - it was clear that leading the Auror corps wasn’t where he wanted to end up. 

Reconnecting with Dudley, though, was a particularly fun time. His cousin had off and gotten married and had a child just after James was born, only to find his daughter floating in their bedroom. Harry got a frantic call, and one thing led to another before realizing that Dudley had fathered a witch.

She’d gotten christened in some old church not too far from Privet Drive, though his aunt and uncle hadn’t been invited. Nor would they have come - they saw Dudley’s marriage as an abomination and had promptly been cut out of his life, too. Explaining wizards to his husband, in contrast to teenage Dudley’s fear and apprehension, had been a welcome change.

Harry passed by a particular corner and grinned. His wedding had been in London, too. They’d rented a muggle place and enlarged it and set up portkeys - it was far more discreet that way, and at that point both he and Ginny were living in his flat. He’d connected it to the floo network so she could travel to Hollyhead at will, but otherwise, they worked their tails off to make more of themselves than war heroes.

He thought about Ginny at 19, just after the war, in contrast to Ginny at 24, World Cup superstar, and again at 28 and 30 and 35 at various stages of motherhood and quidditch player and reporter and stopped just shy of a crosswalk, imagining all of the times throughout the last two decades they’d held hands and walked through London.

This was most certainly his city, and it was a shame he didn’t get to enjoy it as much anymore.

* * *

**Outside his condo**

Harry grinned as he made it to his street. By now, the sun had set, though London still glowed yellow, cast down by street lamps and car headlights. 

Harry’s condo held the best of wizarding and muggle life. It was at the top of a medium sized apartment building, masking the sounds from the Floo, or from Apparation, and making it easy enough to cast the proper protective charms. Still, it was a short walk from the tube, a grocery store, and even a movie theater.

They hadn’t always lived there. Before the kids were at Hogwarts, they’d lived in Godric’s Hollow. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rebuilt the house after the war and lived in it for a short time, once they needed out of the Burrow. It was far simpler to raise young magical children in a home with a big yard and close to other wizards.

The move from London to Godric’s wasn’t smooth, though. Harry and Ginny were used to the fast paced life of the city and of traveling around away from home often, and adjusting to being in one place at once time was a challenge. They’d fought many times when one had forgotten one thing or the other, when they needed to put aside their fights and manage the kids, and Harry couldn’t count the number of times they’d finally gotten the kids down or to their grandparents only to blow up at each other.

It got harder after Harry took the Hogwarts job and they’d moved to Hogsmeade, keeping their home in Godric’s for the summers. Traveling with children, even magically, was challenging and they’d often take turns holding down the fort while the other moved their important belongings over. 

In the end, the better part of his early thirties were spent just like his twenties - moving around between places, settling in slowly. The only difference was three little ones in tow. 

Not that he held any regrets. It was a gift for his children to have been able to experience so much while growing up and know that they would be safe there. It was exactly why Harry was able to move on from giving his childhood up to the Wizarding world. That there would be no more children like him, forced to hide who they were, or worse, forced to disavow their muggle families to survive. 

He’d never imagined being a father. Especially not at 25, barely 7 years removed from the war. Harry realized his perspective on time was changing. At age 39, he’d lived twice those 7 years with the kids, watching them grow and experiencing life in different ways. Back then, those years meant everything, the same way a summer meant everything to Lily Luna at age 10, waiting for her Hogwarts letter to come. 

But fatherhood had turned out to be the greatest of the gifts Ginny had given him. It was his legacy - beyond ending Tom’s tyranny, beyond his decade of service as an Auror, and almost above all that he could do as a teacher at Hogwarts. 

With a happy grin on his face, Harry stepped through the doors and took the elevator up to his home. 

* * *

**Ginny**

“You had a treacle tart delivered to yourself?” Ginny yelled as he walked through the front door. She came through the small archway between the kitchen and living room holding a box.

“It’s my birthday,” he replied, smiling cheekily. 

“Not for a few hours it isn’t,” she replied, setting the box down and stepping in front of Harry, who put his hands around her waist.

“Well then, however should I spend the time?”

At age 38, Ginny was as gorgeous as she’d ever been. It was still strange thinking about the fact that she’d had a crush on him at age 10 since before she knew him. What wasn’t strange was the feeling of Ginny’s lips, a kiss decades in the making, against his own. 15 years into marriage and she still kissed him on his birthdays like the night before they’d left to hunt Horcruxes.

“I have an idea,” she said teasingly, running her hands along his back. Harry stepped them both forward towards the couch, but Ginny stopped them abruptly, pushing him away gently by the chest. “Why don’t you clean up the mess of clothes you’ve left here for a week?”

Harry, laughing, twisted and fell against the couch. “Yes dear,” he said, before pulling Ginny down with him. “In a minute.”

“I’m counting,” she said, smiling as she nuzzled his cheek. Harry kissed her, wrapping his arms around her back, and savored the way she made him feel like he was still 17 and had the weight of the world on his shoulders that he would have thrown away for her in an instant. They’d lived a lot of life since then, but even now - for her and for the kids - Harry would make that decision in a moment. 

Thankfully, they’d made a world where he wouldn’t have to anymore. 

* * *

**Godric’s** **Hollow**

Harry landed with a soft  _ crack _ and pushed through a small gate before coming to rest before two gravestones. The moon was out tonight, illuminating the small patch of grass in front of him through the treeline.

“Hey mum, dad.”

He laid out a small blanket in front of his parent’s graves and laid a bouquet of flowers down. 

“I’m turning 40 tomorrow… it’s weird. I’m almost double the age you got to live. I’ve lived twice as much life and… is it bad to say I don’t miss you anymore? I’ve got my own kids, and Jim and Albie and Lils are growing up just fine. I wish you got to see them at Hogwarts.”

Harry took a minute, inspecting his parents grave markers. Still pristine and unchipped, brushed dirt off of his lap and continued.

“They… uh, the muggles made a movie about us. It’s a long story but Arthur's office started a muggle propaganda division. The world’s become, erm, it’s changed. They have these smartphones now this thing called Twitter.”

Harry pulled his phone out.

“Jim found out at school that you can send confundus charms through tweets. They’re like short little messages you send on the internet…, like texts - bollocks you probably didn’t have those either. Anyway, they’re like letters you send to people through their phone, but shorter, and Jim and his classmates tried some magic through it and long story short, Arthur had to spend a week with the Aurors sorting that out. I got called in for a week and Hermione helped write some new legislation, and a month later, Ron wakes up with the brilliant idea to leak something to the muggles so they don’t realize what’s happening.

Harry flipped through his phone for a picture. 

“Anyway they made a movie about us. Look, your actors are nearly as old as I am.” Harry ran through a few of the pictures, stopping before one particular one. 

It was a picture of two women, one of which was pointing a finger. Next to them was a picture of a cat. The text above it said, “Ron and Harry, complaining about the polyjuice potion wearing off too soon,” and above the cat was simply Hermoine’s name.

Harry didn’t get it at first, until Jim explained that it was a  _ meme _ , some kind of funny image. 

“It’s funny, thinking about all of this now. This was just a few years ago. Hermione’s making a run for Minister of Magic next year, finally. Half the Wizengamot expected it a decade sooner but I don’t think any of us were ready then. A decade ago I’d just finished with the aurors, trying to figure out what was next… Hermione finally finished her muggle degrees.”

These days, Harry only came to visit his parents scarcely once a year, often with the kids when they’d take a week trip to the house in Godric’s Hollow. This was the first time in years Harry’d come to talk to them on his own, and it sent a wave of comfort through him that he didn’t know he needed. 

Harry blinked back his misty eyes and stood up. 

“Anyway, we’re ready now. Miss you mum, dad. I’ll visit with the kids again soon. I’ve got a party tomorrow and I need some sleep. Goodnight.”

Then, Harry turned away, Disapparating back to his home, changed into his pajamas, and crawled back to bed with Ginny. 

**Author's Note:**

> managed to bang this out in a day and very surprised it grew to 5k. thank you for reading! please leave a comment about your favorite headcanon! I tried to collect my favorites here <3.
> 
> happy 40th harry!


End file.
